11. The Final Eight

Note: The character of Jason Simmons belongs to another fanfiction writer, "Talkingbirdguy". Talkingbirdguy, if you're reading this, thank you. You're the reason I wanted to write fanfiction in the first place. I don't own your 're your own

The cannon sounded as Pit continued running through the forest. He wondered who it was for. It definitely wasn't for him. He didn't think that he would be able to run if he was dead. He just hoped that the killer wasn't anywhere nearby. He then turned a corner and found answers.

Meta Knight's body was being taken by the hovercraft. He saw blue paste all over his mask. Pit saw berries on the ground. Was this nightlock? This was not good. That was one fewer food source that there could be.

Soon, Pit sensed a voice behind him.

"So...here's the traitor", said a voice behind him.

Pit turned around.

Toon Link was standing twenty-five feet behind Pit. He had a wild look in his eyes, and Pit could tell that he was pissed at him for abandoning his alliance.

"Now, you die", Toon Link said.

"No, I think you die", Pit said.

They stood there, both sides seeking an out. Eventually, Toon Link pulled out his sword and slashed it through Pit's heart.

The cannon fired as Pit expired.

There were eight tributes left now, at twelve o'clock noon on the fourth day of the Hunger Games. This hadn't taken that long. It took eight days in the first book in the series for there to be eight left.

In the small town of Enfield, New Hampshire, there was one pub, called the Enfield Watering Hole. The owner, an elderly man named Scott Wilson, was cleaning tankards at the bar. This was when the news came on. Normally, they were watching the Red Sox or the Patriots, but this was not that. This was the Hunger Games, and there were only eight tributes remaining.

When there were eight tributes left, interviews were conducted with the families of the tributes. So that was what happened.

The first interview conducted was Krystal McCloud's. It was highly controversial, given that the divorce circus was all the rage in Corneria. Everyone with a TV (which was everyone), was watching the interview.

"So, Krystal", the interviewer was saying, "do you think your husband has any chance at winning the game?"

"Well," Krystal said, "If my ex-husband has any chance at winning the Games, I would think that he would have more sponsors. I filed for divorce the other day. I really hate everything about the man. The sex with him...well, let's just say that he's an abusive husband!".

The crowd gasped. Very few people had known about Fox being an abuser.

"Sorry", the interviewer said. "Would you like some tissues?"

Krystal nodded, tearing up, as the interviewer passed her a box of tissues. She began wiping her nose and face.

"I...hate...that...man", Krystal sobbed.

"Let's leave it at that", the interviewer said.

That concluded the first interview.

The next interview was with Jason Simmons, an eighteen-year-old boy from the land of Kanto. He was representing Lucario. His own story was famous on his own.

Two years before, he had turned into a Lucario in the middle of science class. Ever since then, he'd been famous worldwide. But that's another story.

"I know this Lucario," he said.

"Oh, yeah?", the interviewer said.

"Yes. You know that movie being made? Curse of the Lucario? That's Narri. The Lucario in the Games is Narri."

"And who is this Narri?", the interviewer asked.

Jason began to recount the story of how, two years ago, he had accidentally run over a wild Lucario on the road. He'd called for an ambulance and thought little of it. The next day, however, he had been shoved by a bully named Thomas. He'd stood up and painfully transformed into the aura-channelling Pokemon. This had set off a dangerous quest in order to stay away from Team Styx, an insurgent group that had been threatening to capture Simmons and use his aura to manufacture weapons of mass destruction. Narri had had Jason's back throughout this ordeal. Little did anyone know that, twenty-five years later, Jason would be captured by another insurgent group called Team Phoenix. Again, that's another story.

"Well," the interviewer said, "I'm sorry that you're likely to lose your best friend. So let's hope, for your sake, that he wins".

That concluded the second interview.

There were no interviews for Toon Link, Falco, or Mr. Game & Watch. It just went straight to Jigglypuff.

Jigglypuff's loved one was its trainer, a young man named Ted Turkey. This was an embarrassing name to have, and, needless to say, Ted's face flashed scarlet when his name was said.

"I'm fairly optimistic about the chances of my Jigglypuff winning these Games. After all, it can always just use Rest to send them flying away! And it'll need rest after these exhausting four days!"

The audience laughed, though it was unclear if they were laughing at the pun or still at Ted Turkey's ridiculous name.

This concluded the "sixth" interview.

There was no interview for one of the other tributes the author cannot remember either, nor for Kirby. So, the final eight interviews really meant just three. The audience in the Capitol was no doubt outraged, but there was nothing they could do about it. Nothing.

Fox awoke the next morning to a dire reality. They were at eight tributes left. The death recap the previous night had revealed that Snake, Pit, and Meta Knight had died. He remembered the pact he had made with his former copilot.

Falco Lombardi was still sleeping. He loved this guy, and he wanted to go as far as he could with him. But on the same hand, if Falco had to go in order for him to win the game, he had to go. Because he had more at stake than Falco did.

But they were at the final eight, and they had promised that they would peacefully separate at that point. It had come sooner than they had thought-maybe the arena was too small. But there was no turning back time, as he remembered Twenty One Pilots's song, "Stressed Out".

Wish we could turn back time,

To the good old days,

When our mommas sang us to sleep,

But now we're stressed out.

That was the theme of Fox's life now. He wanted to go back, back to before his father had died, before he'd been cursed with unconscious domestic violence, before Krystal had cheated on him. Before he'd made a blood pact with Falco in this fucking game.

But there was no such thing as a time machine. Even in highly technologically advanced Corneria, once a day was over, that day was over. It was just so unfair.

Whoever was running the show, Yahweh or Allah or Vishnu or Zeus, Fox hoped that there was a good reason for this evil. The problem of evil had been proposed thousands of years ago by Epicurus, an ancient Greek philosopher. This was basically the idea that, if God was omnipotent, omniscient, and omnibenevolent, then there shouldn't be any evil or suffering in the world. But there was. Therefore, God didn't exist.

Fox began to break down into tears, not happy about any of this. He sobbed, unable to console himself.

This woke Falco up, who began patting Fox on the back. He knew that his friend needed emotional help, but he couldn't continue to offer it up.

It had come time. Time for their alliance to be over.

Lucario, or rather Narri, woke up on the morning of the first day. Ever since the rooster the day before, he'd been on a roller coaster that only went up. He figured that he had the best chance of winning these Games out of anyone. Since they were at eight Smashers left, Fox and Falco would now be breaking up. No more alliances. It was just everyone for themselves. And Narri knew that he could get sponsors, more of them.

He looked at his gash from the vicious leg wound. It was now only about half the size of a dime. He still remembered the foul-smelling pus on his leg, and how much it had hurt. The sponsors had saved him then, but it had undoubtedly cost many millions of dollars. And gifts went up in price the longer the Games lasted. He knew that from the books, which were very popular in Kanto. He'd gotten the medicine on day two. It was now day five. Prices went up by a factor of 2.718 per day. It had cost fifty million dollars to get him the anti-infection drugs. Now, it would cost over a billion. Someone like Donald Trump could still afford it, though.

Narri was pondering this when a silver parachute began floating down. Wow, they must really love me!, the Lucario thought. He waited for his new sponsor gift to land before reaching for it. Heart pounding, he opened the box.

It was now 08:04:02, Day 5, and Fox was still in bed. He was just prolonging the inevitable, and he knew that. He just wanted to spend a few more hours with his best friend. Another hour or two was all he'd need. But then Falco spoke exactly what was on his mind.

"It gets harder and harder to get out of bed every morning", he said.

Fox agreed. It felt as though he was weighed down by grief for his failed marriage, and, every day, he was saddled with another fifty-pound weight somewhere on his body.

This weight doubled now that they had reached the end of the road for their alliance.

Still, though, for now Fox was okay with just eating breakfast. He was grateful for his last morning waking up, with the wind in his face and really high, knowing he was safe from enemy Smashers. Well, except for Snake.

Narri got up and began walking in search of food. He'd lost all benefit from the Italian feast two days before thanks to the gastrointestinal warfare, Fan favorite or not, he had to get moving or else he could easily be killed. He recalled a passage from the book: Pity does not get you aid. Admiration at your refusal to give in does.

That was very relevant now. He had to act like he was in control of everything, like this was his plan from day one. The Capitol audience loved a good underdog story, and that was what he hoped to give them.

The sponsor package had contained a rich, juicy steak. However, whoever had given it to him had clearly not considered that his stomach would still be recovering from the feast. He used his aura abilities to refrigerate it so that would be okay to cook within four days or so. Of course, he only had a few days, but that might be just as well, because these Games were unlikely to last much longer than that, given how quickly they had gone by so far.

Narri recalled Jason Simmons, the teenage boy from Kanto who had run him over. He sat down next to a pine tree and reminisced about the story.

When Jason was sixteen, Narri had been running across the street when he was suddenly swept off his feet into the nearby woods. Jason had run him over on accident. Narri had been taken to the hospital, where Jason visited him later that day.

Two evenings later, he had felt an urge to go to another location. He escaped from the hospital when the nurse wasn't looking and began walking towards what would turn out to be the Simmons household. He collapsed and lost consciousness in the field. He woke up as Jason was carrying him inside.

He stayed with the Simmons family for the next day. Around midday, a Dragonite came bearing a message for Jason. They had gone to Sir Ignacious's mansion, where the old professor had explained his theory about how Jason had turned into a Pokemon. Narri had also shown him his family at the Lucario sanctuary, as well as the hot springs there.

After returning, Jason had been captured by the WPO, and then escaped. He had been led down to a city, where he escaped from a burning hotel room. Two days later, he went to a meeting where government officials had agreed to stop Team Styx. But before Narri could do anything, Jason was teleported to a mountain where the leader of Team Styx, Devon Mutatin, had been waiting for him. He'd sent off a signal and been rescued, and taken to a hospital. He then became a human again. Narri had still had a lot of media attention, and they were even making a movie based on their escapades. But he'd otherwise had a normal life. Until now.

Jigglypuff was still going strong. Unlike some of its peers, the Balloon Pokemon had been eating well ever since the Games began, thanks to being in the plurality alliance. But for the last day, Jigglypuff had been on its own. "It" was actually a she, like seventy-five percent of Jigglypuffs in the world of Pokemon.

She was waiting for someone to come along so she could use Rest on them and send them flying into the force field. Unless someone performed CPR on the victim, they would be dead. This could be a legitimate strategy for winning the Games!